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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25069267">Ties That Bind</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesetoiles/pseuds/lesetoiles'>lesetoiles</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Naruto</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Chakra Bond, M/M, Naruto and Sasuke have relationship drama, Post-Chapter 699 (Naruto), Sasuke is bad at feelings and Naruto feels too much, Slight OOC, Villainous Group OCs, bond fic, female villain, other OCs - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 02:20:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,192</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25069267</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesetoiles/pseuds/lesetoiles</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Her ginger hair brushes her thin ankles, lips pulled into a mocking moue, “Poor thing. That boy has you all tied up into knots, doesn’t he?”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto, minor Hinata Hyuga/Uzumaki Naruto</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Homecoming</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The results of quarantine and a somewhat sequel to my "And the Sun Glares Back" fic.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Konoha is on the horizon.</p>
<p>Naruto peers through the dusty haze. He can’t quite see the skyline, but he knows they are just a hairsbreadth away. This path, with dappled light piercing through thick green canopies, is one he’s walked many times before. The birdsong, cicada murmurs, and swirling leaves all spark nostalgia in his heart. Yes, this is Konoha and this is home.</p>
<p>
  <em>Home. </em>
</p>
<p>Sasuke is several paces ahead of him, long black cloak trailing behind like a shadow. His hair is longer too, an inky curtain shielding his face. Naruto remembered teasing him about it when they were on the border of River Country. The humidity had clung to their skin and stifled their pores. He’d bound his loose raven locks in a loose bun, similar to that messy thing Sakura used to do. It was kinda impressive because Sasuke had one arm. Naruto had taken pleasure in reminding him of that fact, but slightly less at the intense, mismatched gaze then leveled at him. Then, Sasuke had pushed a kunai into his hand and turned his back. That haircut had been the most awkward-yet-intimate thing they’d done so far.</p>
<p>Except…of course…well…</p>
<p>His skin turns the same color as the sky.</p>
<p>For gods’ sake, he’s Naruto Uzumaki! He doesn’t blush! <em>Especially</em> over dumb Uchihas. He crosses his arms and huffs, earning a brief glance from the Uchiha in question which only serves to deepen said blush. He feels frazzled and frustrated, suddenly understanding Sakura’s teenage year torment. The thought of them half-drunk waxing-poetic about dumb Sasuke’s looks and emotional constipation pulls a small chuckle from the depths of his anxiety. He can’t wait to see his friends again.</p>
<p>Still…it was nice.</p>
<p>They’d been two days outside Kirigakure, taking shelter in a dingy bungalow during a storm. The conversation had been light, essentially carried by Naruto. Naruto couldn’t remember what he was talking about but he remembers the exact moment he stops. Minutes snuffed out by forceful lips, agonizing heat, building friction. Tenderness is still a foreign concept to these war-veterans, but on that night, it had been etched in their skin. Sasuke holding him, cradling him like something precious…something loved…something fragile. For a moment, between the seams of supernovas and black holes, he felt whole. And with a single look, he fell apart all over again.</p>
<p>Naruto glances up sadly at the cloak of black completely obscuring his …friend? Lover? What exactly were they? The question stings his tongue, so he turns away, a bitter smile pulling at his lips. They haven’t spoken of that night and barely at all since they crossed into Fire Country. The silence hangs like humidity on the cusp of summer, hot and oppressive.</p>
<p>He pulls at his collar.</p>
<p>
  <em>Seems like we’re destined to go up in flames, huh Sasuke?</em>
</p>
<p>The Chunin guarding the gates salute awkwardly when Sasuke crosses the threshold into Konoha, mutual loathing naked like an undressed wound. Naruto understands – hell, probably more than most – but the cold shoulders jogs unpleasant memories. The Chunnin gush over his return, but he spares nothing more than a cursory wave. A smattering of red halos the Hokage monument, an apt namesake to its country of origin. It smears blood across a healing nation. If not for the unfinished buildings and foreign ninja presence, Konoha would seem no different than before the war. Naruto smiles, relieved for some return to normalcy.</p>
<p>“Naruto!”</p>
<p>Naruto waves at a young woman and her friends. He’ll never get used to the hero-worship. In his deepest fears, he still sees the scalding glares and angry words. He’s convinced one day they will again see him as a monster and he will be alone. <em>Alone</em>. A hollow echo in his mind. It surges in his stomach, burns in his throat, and he stops to cough. He doesn’t notice Sasuke stopping and doubling back, until he straightens up and is a breath away from his mouth.</p>
<p>There is no emotion in that onyx eye, “We need to debrief Kakashi on the side-op.”</p>
<p>He resents the slight quiver in his voice, “Y-Yeah. Let’s go.”</p>
<p>It takes two beats before Naruto bounds after Sasuke, frowning at the burgeoning panic deep within himself.</p>
<p>
  <em>What the hell is wrong with me? </em>
</p><hr/>
<p>Kakashi sinks further into his chair, glancing skyward at the mountains of paperwork piling on his desk. A world-weary sigh escapes from his lips and it takes a surprising amount of willpower not to scream. Igniting these devil-sheets with his fire jutsu crosses his mind daily but remembering Iruka and Shizune’s combined wrath is enough to straighten his spine and furiously fill out the next seven forms.</p>
<p>He’s on the eighth form when he senses them. A small smile curls under his masked face and he leans back, half-lidded eyes tracking his former students’ movements. They’ve rubbed off on each other, Kakashi thinks amusedly. Sasuke’s lavender high-collar shirt peeks underneath the heavy black cloak. Naruto dilutes orange with black, his new jacket sleek and slim instead of baggy. It’s a far cry from the obnoxious jumpsuit of yesteryear. They’ve grown into a more mature version of themselves. More whittled.</p>
<p>Tightness strings across their expressions – Kakashi recognizes it anywhere.</p>
<p>
  <em>These boys…they’ve seen hell.</em>
</p>
<p>“My have you two grown!” Kakashi comments lightly, chuckling at their confusion. “It’s been barely six months and you’re almost my height!”</p>
<p>Naruto rubs his neck, “Thanks sensei,” he gestures toward the right pile, grinning, “I see you haven’t changed much since! Ignoring your responsibilities?”</p>
<p>“Maa…maa, I have time.” He waves it off.</p>
<p>“Tell that to Iruka-sensei. He can be pretty scary, ya know!”</p>
<p>Kakashi balks. The image of Iruka surrounded by hellfire, satanic voice cursing his name, sends another shiver down his spine. <em>Tell me about it. </em></p>
<p>Naruto laughs, relaxing a bit. Tension fizzles to unease. There’s a sharp, metallic scent in the air. Kakashi isn’t a sensory ninja, but that scent is unmistakable.</p>
<p>
  <em>Stress hormones? And this strong?</em>
</p>
<p>Sasuke clears his throat, “Kakashi. We’re here to debrief on the side-op mission.”</p>
<p>Kakashi nods, “Right. The one in Kirigakure. Were you able to eliminate the rebels?”</p>
<p>“They fell without much of a fight. Despite their desire to postpone the Shinobi Union, they were avowed pacifists, focused on defense verses offense. We were able to kill their leader, Shiori.”</p>
<p>Kakashi’s eyes narrow to slits, “No clan name?”</p>
<p>Naruto shakes his head, “None. There wasn’t any mention of her in the Kirigakure records. We think she might’ve been an orphan or refugee,” He drops his head, clutching his stomach, “But…”</p>
<p>Kakashi cocks a brow, “But?”</p>
<p>Sasuke interrupts, “She hit us with some final jutsu. Touched us simultaneously in the chest before she collapsed and died. We had some minor chakra disturbances for two days, but my Sharingan couldn’t sense anything beyond that,” Sasuke eyes slip shut, brow wrinkling as if bracing. “Naruto still thinks somethings wrong.”</p>
<p>“Think? I know!” Naruto snaps, fangs bared, “Kurama agrees with me. There’s more to the jutsu she hit us with, I can feel it! My insides feel all…chakra-ed up!”</p>
<p>“Chakra-ed up?” Sasuke scoffs.</p>
<p>“Yeah! I mean it’s like,” his hands gesture wildly, “and then…uhhh…”  He combs his hair fervently as if searching for the words, “I can’t describe it but I know it’s there, ya know!”</p>
<p>“It’s probably just gas, moron,” Sasuke says, a little more caustic than Kakashi remembers, “You always see more than what’s there.”</p>
<p>The comment stuns Naruto to silence. Glazed blue eyes flutter downwards, bandaged fists clenched at his sides. Kakashi’s meets Sasuke’s glacial gaze with his furrowed one, trying to snuff out answers in the frost.</p>
<p>
  <em>Just what happened on this mission?</em>
</p>
<p>            Crossing his arms, Kakashi twists in his chair, looking out the window. Darkness begins to swallow most of Konoha, streetlights flickering like little stars. He scratches his masked chin and speaks, “I think you guys should head home and rest.”</p>
<p>“But Sensei—”</p>
<p>Kakashi holds up a palm, fixing him with a look, “I’ll look more into your claim, Naruto. But with all the postwar conflict and complication, I can’t devoid too many resources to some dead rebels. If it’s something physical, you can stop by tomorrow for a full examination. But right now, you should focus on rejuvenating.” His eyes crinkle, “I know Iruka has been asking about you.”</p>
<p>The blond jolts, as if surprised that someone still cares about him. Then he slumps, nods, and leaves with his hands in his pockets. Kakashi definitely feels a tear in his chest, a tender wound of familial instinct he’d rather ignore. He suspects Naruto’s mood has something to do with the Uchiha standing by his desk, but paperwork looms ever higher, so he tables the discussion for another day.</p>
<p>They’re men now – they can handle their own problems, “Sasuke, I’ll have you know I’ve taken liberties with new construction plans while you were away.”</p>
<p>“Hn. Have you now?”</p>
<p>“The Uchiha district is no more,” Sasuke’s shoulders stiffen, “It’s been repurposed as a bazaar.”</p>
<p>A beat. And then a surprise…a touch of sadness, softness. The Uchiha lowers his lids, “A bazaar? Guess that’s better.”</p>
<p>Kakashi nods, resting his head on his right hand, “I can give you the old lands back if you want. But with the war reimbursements and the money from Uchiha coffers, you can afford a pretty house on the edge of Nara forest. It’s quiet…and peaceful.”</p>
<p>Sasuke snorts, “Peace? In Konoha? That’ll be the day.”</p>
<p>“It’s already happening,” Kakashi chuckles, “You should enjoy yourself. Try the dango – I heard they’re absolutely delicious.”</p>
<p>Sasuke turns to the door, walking away from the suggestion, voice barely above a murmur, “A man like me deserves no peace.”</p>
<p>Kakashi frowns at the closed door.</p>
<p>He sighs. Uchihas – always the flair for dramatics.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Facing Demons</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The walk home keeps Naruto in his head. Strange, because he’s not much of a thinking person—he’s a <em>doing </em>person. He wears his heart on his sleeve and tastes blood in his mouth. He needs physical evidence of a job well done. There’s no room for contemplation or what ifs. Yet, his mind wanders back to that battle. Back to Water Country, cataloging everything: tastes, scents, touch. Anything that could explain the weird fizzy pop in his stomach.</p><p><em>Hunger?</em>  Naruto chews his lip.          </p><p>He does another circuit around Konoha before coming home. Home. To his way too empty apartment, no company except the gaping silence and yawning wood creaking its age with every step up the staircase. When he pushes his apartment door open, he is greeted by a clean living-room, streamers, and fresh Ichiraku takeout. Iruka smiles warmly by the kitchen, “Welcome home, Naruto.”</p><p><em>Home</em>, he thinks again, less bitterly this time.</p><p>Soon he forgets all about Kirigakure and weird jutsu, eager to recount his adventures rebuilding and discovering ninja villages all around the shinobi world. He mentions the time they met up with Sakura near Amegakure, where she helped cure a village from a deadly disease. They all kicked ass, he explained, when bad guys came looking for trouble. The reunion of Team Seven will bring the world to its knees.</p><p>Iruka laughs, “Well you haven’t lost your imagination, I can tell you that.”</p><p>Naruto pouts, “It’s not imaginary! It’s real, ya know!”</p><p>“Yeah I know, I heard about all the wonderful things you did save Konoha,” his eyes glaze over, watching Naruto with wonder, “For that, I’m proud and I’m grateful.”</p><p>Naruto flushes and averts his gaze, scratching his neck, grinning, “I was just doing my duty, ya know? It wasn’t just me. Kakashi-sensei, Gai-sensei, Sakura,” he hesitates, “Sasuke. Plus, the other village ninja – they all helped.”</p><p>“But you were the inspiration. Without you, I doubt we would’ve lasted long.”</p><p>Naruto lips press into a grim line, “I guess not.”</p><p>He doesn’t see Iruka-sensei’s concern but it weighs all the same, crushing his shoulders.</p><p>He immediately tries to lighten to load, “I’d love to know more about what’s happened since then. Won’t have time to talk to everyone, ya know?”</p><p>He loses himself in tales of lost love, reconstruction, and reunion. And Sakura, who’s number two at the hospital now after Shizune, pulls a grin out of his sadness. Konoha’s hasn’t recovered, far from it, but beneath the patchwork healing job lies a raw truth. A raw experience that has united this village in a way it never has before. Death does that, he thinks. Leaves scars like thin threads, knotting people together.</p><p>
  <em>I should visit the memorial…lay some flowers out for Neji…</em>
</p><p>He almost chokes on his next bite. Shit, Neji – <em>Hinata</em>. They haven’t talked since the funeral. He didn’t even say goodbye. Kiba might kill him if Sakura doesn’t get to him first. And all this time…just to say no. Neji’s definitely thinking of ways to murder him in afterlife. He winces, eyes casting downwards.</p><p> He traces lines in the woodwork, follows the lattices to the table’s edge. In another time, he’s with Hinata. He loves and protects her the way a boyfriend would…like a husband. But—he picks a path that diverts from the freefall—he cannot love her now. Because he sees clearly now, eyes staring straight into a scarlet moon, what love is. It is stained and wedged under his fingernails.</p><p>
  <em>‘You always see more than what’s there’</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Maybe he’s right…he’s the one with the doujutsu</em>
</p><p>The Rinnegan and Sharingan swirl in his brain and it sears deep in his stomach, so hard that he doubles over and coughs up undigested noodles.</p><p>“Naruto!” Iruka exclaims, rushing to his side.</p><p>“Shit.” Naruto seethes, feeling bile scorching his throat. He tries to catch his breath, but it snags like fabric on nails.</p><p>      It takes several minutes of Iruka soothing a hand across his back and breathing with him until he calms down. He searches for an excuse but comes up empty.</p><p>Luckily, Iruka understands. He always understands, “I’ll clean up in here, Naruto. Go try and get some sleep.”</p><p>He manages a grateful smile, “Thanks, Iruka-sensei.”</p><p>       He vomits twice in between bathing and brushing his teeth. By the time he slides into bed, he’s feverish and dehydrated. Well-worn sheets itch his overheated skin. It doesn’t take long before he throws them off in a huff, staring through slotted blinds at the crescent moon. He needs water. He coughs, rubbing his Suna-dry throat. Weakness overcomes thirst in the end, drifting him into an uneasy slumber.</p><p>       He’s in front of Kurama’s domicile – the hollowed room where bars used to reside. Ink black water sluices around his ankles, a makeshift pulse. A makeshift pain. It slices through his body, a knife splitting his head in two, bringing him to kneel. Breath harsh in his throat, in his lungs. He reaches. Dulled red fur curls in the corner, completely ignorant to Naruto’s yells.</p><p> He reaches out and a force repels him backward. He’s tumbling, rolling through shifting darkness. It has a mind of its own and it bounces Naruto around in its mass. A single punch bursts it open, unveiling a meadow of fresh wildflowers. A breeze kisses his cheeks and his eyes close, bad dreams slipping from his ailing mind until he’s face-to-face with one, a bandaged hand on her cocked hip.</p><p>Her ginger hair brushes her thin ankles, lips pulled into a mocking moue, “Poor thing. That boy has you all tied up into knots, doesn’t he?”</p>
<hr/><p> Sasuke’s night progresses slowly. He lays on his threadbare couch, his one arm banded over his throbbing eyes. When he finally sits up, shadows have swallowed the entire apartment and a chill whistles through the window.</p><p> He dices some tomatoes and overcooks rice. The process is more complicated with only one arm, but he adapts as all Uchihas do. He finishes his pauper’s meal reading Sakura’s sticky note on the remaining vegetable and fruit assortment. Residual guilt stings his chest. He takes a swig of ice water and explains the feeling away as gas.</p><p>His meal finished, he decides on some light cleaning. Kitchen tops wiped down, bedsheets changed, and floor swept. Anything – any noise that keeps him out of his head. That distracts from the spinning tomoe of his Sharingan.</p><p> A difficult dish stain rips a snarl from him and he throws the plate against wall, collapsing into the broken shards. He feels the prick of drawn blood. He stays like that – still and pathetic – for several minutes. Then, he simply sweeps up the evidence, changes his clothes, and applies some aloe. Despite his efforts, he ends up on the same couch, in the same position, with the same image running through his head.</p><p>
  <em>Naruto, raw and freckled, writhing underneath him. His moans barely masked by the rolling thunder outside. His fingers digging little crescents into Sasuke’s flush back, bearing down on his pressing heat.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>‘Sasuke,’ He hiccups, ‘don’t--’</em>
</p><p>Sasuke’s fist clenches the memory away – grips those last words. They settle low in his gut, boiling bile, teetering between two emotions he didn’t care to verbalize. Unwilling to drink the poison, his thoughts wander to the mission…to his past…to his present. He knows instinctively he cannot stay here. Here, in Konoha, the place that took everything from him – that coated his family’s emblem in their own blood. He thinks of his relationship with Konoha. He’d once described it as complicated like a bundle of threads, tight and tense. He was delusional. He hates Konoha. He will never not hate Konoha.</p><p>This is not his home. It never was. It never will be.</p><p>Again, those words breathed against raw skin echo in his empty apartment.</p><p>He watches the unmoving darkness on the ceiling, seeking reprieve from his weary mind. His breaths even out and he feels himself drifting deeper. Sinking…</p><p>Until a shift in the darkness has him jumping into action, dojutsu swirling, and hidden kunai pressed into the throat of the intruder. His eyes widen at that silver, steadied gaze leveled at him.</p><p>“Nice to see you again, Uchiha-san.” The woman says, a crazed grin stretched ear to ear. She wears the same outfit as her corpse: blue zipped sleeveless shirt, long black skirt, and bandages covering exposed skin up to her neck. Her auburn hair is unbound, tickling her heels.</p><p>“Shiori,” is his biting reply, “How the hell did you get in here?”</p><p>“Think Uchiha-san,” Her deep timbre vibrates down to his toes, “You’re a smart boy.”</p><p>He focuses his sense and his eyes snap open, “Genjutsu?” The tomoe spin fruitlessly, “No…your chakra…it’s inside me.”</p><p>She smiles, mellifluous, “Bingo.”</p><p>He drops the kunai and backs away, barely restraining from clawing open his head, “Why?”</p><p>“So angry all time…you remind me of him,” Her voice drops, lips frowning. Her eyes glass over.</p><p>He doesn’t buy the contrition. Surging, he grabs her by the shirt-collar, “Get out of my head so I can kill you all over again.”</p><p>She chuckles, “Child. How can you kill what does not exist?”</p><p>He blinks and she’s gone. Lightning crawls up his arms: the curse seal.</p>
<hr/><p>Naruto awakes alone in the morning.</p><p>Except it’s not morning and he’s not alone. Through bleary eyes, he sees a figure through a sliver of light. He tilts and swears he feels his brain slush around, a sharp pain reverberating to the base of his spine.</p><p>The image clarifies, “Iruka-sensei?”</p><p>Iruka peeks into his room, kunai clutched to his chest, fear naked on his face. Naruto mouth turns to cotton, “Wha--?”</p><p>“Naruto…your demon chakra,” His hushed voice quivers, “It was leaking into the kitchen.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Startling Reveal</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I have a couple of these chapters written so the updates will be fairly regular until chapter 7/8</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Morning brings Naruto and Sasuke to the hospital examination room. Post-war procedures overwhelm the tiny staff, but Naruto’s incident bumps them to top priority. And to the audience of Konoha’s rising star, dressed in wrinkled floral pink scrubs.</p>
<p>The sterile stench of antiseptic clings to the walls. Naruto tries not to sneeze and fails, earning the ire of Sakura’s assistant as he covers her in snot. Sakura’s fingers press, prod, and pull at his body, completely bold in the face of her naked teammates. Naruto still has the decency to blush, specifically when she cups his balls and asks him to cough. He’s convinced she purposely wants to torture him. Sasuke’s examination is in the other room, privacy afforded by a diaphanous divider. Sakura writes something down in her clipboard and her assistant rips open the curtain.</p>
<p>A beat passes and Sakura makes her diagnosis, “The exams revealed some simple dehydration and malnutrition. But knowing you too, nothing is ever simple,” Her stern eyes catch Naruto’s, “Your symptoms are especially concerning. I don’t know much about Fūinjutsu but if you’ve suddenly lost control of the fox, it’s more serious than we thought. Tsuki’s Byakugan can’t even snuff it out.”</p>
<p>Sasuke’s stomach lurches. <em>He’s lost control of the Kyuubi?</em></p>
<p>Tsuki continues, “The only abnormality I found was the chakra paths around your Gate of Deaths. But this is not unusual in war vets,” she twirls a honey brown strand around her finger, “My guess we’re dealing with something mental – unrelated to physical or chakra health.”</p>
<p>Sakura nods, “I’ve sent for Ino – she’s tied up with some training and won’t be free until late afternoon. In the interim, I suggest you both <em>take it easy.</em>” She bites the last four syllables. Her eyes flit between her former teammates, daring them to protest.</p>
<p>Silence except for the hospital’s symphony of gurgling pipes and beeping machines. Her critical expression melts into concern. She gives Naruto another once-over. His shoulders sag, his hair wilts. Darkness impresses itself in his face’s gaunt outlines. He’s looking at nothing, a frown deep on his face.</p>
<p>Her heart wobbles, “Naruto…”</p>
<p>“Sakura.”</p>
<p>She flinches, twisting her neck and facing Sasuke. His exhaustion is less obvious, but the tension isn’t. His shoulders square and back tighten, eyes darting for his discarded shirt. Once found, he continues, “Is he a danger?”</p>
<p>Naruto grips the bedside harder, shaking, a spring to be sprung. Sakura takes a moment and replies, “I don’t know.”</p>
<p>“I can put him under a genjutsu.”</p>
<p>It springs. He nearly knocks Sakura over as he lunges, arms whipping wildly, “Like hell you will! I won’t let you in my head!”</p>
<p>“Naruto-san!” Tsuki gasps and jumps. Medical wares clang and skitter. Alcohol spatters the floor, stinging her nose. She yelps, rubbing her face as the room erupts in the familiar discordance of old arguments.</p>
<p>What resonates is Sakura’s booming voice, “Quit it you too!”</p>
<p>The pair snap their gazes Sakura. She could spark a fire with her anger. The clipboard splits in half, teeth crushed in a growl, vein tightening on her forehead. Naruto at least has the decency to look contrite, but he doesn’t loosen his grip on Sasuke’s shirt. Sasuke looks barely affected. Just tired.</p>
<p>
  <em>God we all are. </em>
</p>
<p>A simple truth deep within her blood. Within her marrow. Her back aches. Three-day old grease shines her hair. Grime clings to her skin like a carapace. Hospital showers do the bare minimum – she’ll need a good scrub whenever her shift ends. <em>If </em>her shift ends. They’ve been short-staffed for months. She hasn’t had more than a few hours off since…ever? Time has become an enemy, a blur of color and codes.</p>
<p>She spares Tsuki a glance. The younger woman works the same hours as her and seems completely untouched; She’s still quiet and even-handed. Even now she’s recovered from Naruto’s outburst, checking over her own chart, it’s veracity more necessary now that Sakura’s destroyed hers. Sakura ignores her slight jealousy, fixed again on her two former teammates. A familiar sight of Naruto and Sasuke bickering while she looks onward, occasionally playing peacemaker.  It’s…nice considering the circumstances. More normal. He reminders her of before times – before they all had to grow up too fast. The thought slips out of her head just as Naruto grips Sasuke’s throat.</p>
<p>He slams him against the wall, “Don’t you <em>ever </em>say that to me again!”</p>
<p>“Naruto!” Sakura exclaims. She roundhouse-kicks his shin, bringing him down with a yelp, “Calm down!”</p>
<p>“Shit!” He curses, rubbing his sore spot. He whines, “That hurt, ya know!”</p>
<p>“Too bad!” She feels a little guilt. He <em>is </em>sick after all. It is squished at the sight of Sasuke’s expression. Naked shock. His wide eyes take inventory of his arms and hands, the tiniest of shakes visible, as if he’d been under a spell that wore off. It chills her blood – she’s never seen Sasuke scared. He’s angry, aloof, or even malicious when they fight. Something has changed, a subtle tilt of an axis. It unsteadies her. It <em>worries </em>her. The last time she felt like this, Sasuke disappeared almost forever.</p>
<p>It has to do with the mission they were both on – she is sure of it.</p>
<p>A question rises to her tongue. Sasuke calls her name, once again steady, “Sakura?”</p>
<p>She decides against voicing her concerns, sighing, “No, you don’t have to put him under a genjutsu. We have more ethical ways to disable chakra,” She looks at Naruto, “You’ll be able to sleep until Ino comes.”</p>
<p>Naruto doesn’t say anything. The clock ticks twice before he replies wordlessly, nodding, lips a firm line. He averts their eyes and slots his hands into his pockets. Sakura almost voices her surprise. Is he…brooding? Naruto doesn’t brood.</p>
<p>Her eyes flit to Sasuke. He’s rubbing out his navy shirt’s wrinkles, oblivious. Sakura is sure Sasuke is the cause.</p>
<p>Another time. She and Tsuki nod at each other.</p>
<p>She flashes Naruto a small smile, “Whenever you’re ready.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Naruto goes down easy. The first drug slows his heart rate and relaxes him, bringing him to a dreamless sleep while the second drug binds to and deactivates his chakra. It a common treatment for those with chakra disturbances. Except, Naruto’s whole existence is chakra disturbance. The Kyuubi’s presence leaves this treatment’s efficacy in flux, especially if he’s losing control.</p>
<p>Hopefully, it’ll hold.</p>
<p>Sakura examines his pallor. Blackened crescents cup his eyes and winkles carve between his brow. His whiskers wilt as she grazes his cheeks. He’s an exhausted flame, golden boy gone wicker white. Maybe the rest will provide a necessary reset and prevent any more drastic measures.</p>
<p>Sakura wishes she were still that naive.</p>
<p>Exhaling a prayer through her nose, she turns to Tsuki, “Please monitor him while I’m gone.”</p>
<p>Tsuki nods, “Yes, senpai.”</p>
<p>Sakura glances at Sasuke, smiles awkwardly, and exits the room. The hallway ghosts a chill across her bare arms. She shivers. The hospital is usually cool but this cold pricks her skin. Was Naruto’s room that much warmer? The boy has always been a furnace. It takes her a few steps to realize Sasuke is following her, silent as a specter. She stops outside an examination room, fixing him with an inquisitive look, imploring him to speak.</p>
<p>He watches her wordlessly, mix-matched eyes peeking between long onyx bangs. A ponytail is fastened at the nape of his neck. He seems older, wiser – troubled, “We need to talk.”</p>
<p>“About?”</p>
<p>He shakes his head, “Not here,” He pauses, “Meet me outside Chou’s in fifteen minutes.”</p>
<p>She frowns, “I’m still on schedule.”</p>
<p>His voice softens to a completely foreign decibel. Small and sincere, “It’s important.”</p>
<p>The change shakes Sakura to the core and throws her off balance. She stumbles, catching herself on the wall, eyebrows raised. The shock turns to agreement. Sasuke exits through the stairwell, the door hinge squeaking long after he’s gone. She stays like that for a while, fists clenching. After ten minutes, she follows suit.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Chou’s is a small café right outside Akimichi grounds. Modern, with wide glass windows sheltered by a yellow-striped hooded awning. Fresh baby blue puckers between wood siding, matching the butterfly decorating the black lacquer sign. A spicy, medicinal smell wafts from the propped-open door. Owned by an Akimichi woman, the establishment boasts the largest variety of teas and coffee in Konoha, each specially formulated for specific aliments or emotions. Sakura has never tried it, only barely knew of its location, but the entire medical staff swore by the Vitality brew. It was essential for long and difficult shifts.</p>
<p>Sakura prefers catnaps in empty hospital rooms.</p>
<p>Still, she can’t help but smile, the café bringing memories of a more familiar Akimichi and his Nara and Yamanaka companions. Like all the ninja in her year, they’ve grown apart, taking diverging paths and piecing together their shattered lives along the way. The war is a tender wound healed in a jagged scar that no one wants to pick. Sakura’s well aware of that scar and its infection. Grief had kept her bedridden between shifts. Thinking of Ino and Shikamaru pulls at its delicate seam.</p>
<p>She watches the brown sludge suspiciously, swirling the canary yellow mug. She catches the coffee’s warm and tangy scent, a blend of standard brew and…citrus? It sours her stomach. She pours the last bit of milk and crushes a sugar cube, mixing them together until the coffee turns caramel. She hesitates, mug frozen to her lips, peering at her companion.</p>
<p>He’s eating <em>onsenbei</em>, eyes wandering across the black round table. He traces the painting—a swarm of multicolor butterflies aflutter, blurring blue scumble along the edges. Flying free. He snorts. What a foreign feeling. One that has evaded Sasuke all his life, slipping through his fingers like blood. Orochimaru. Itachi. Deserving and undeserving, all bleeding the same scarlet gore, the same color of his flames. He smells of death – it follows him wherever he goes. A permanent scar, his permanent cage. Suspicious glances don’t bother him – it would be foolish to think anything else.</p>
<p>A killer. A murderer.</p>
<p>
  <em>Naruto has seen it all and loves you anyway.</em>
</p>
<p>Her dismembered voice sloshes around his brain, a sickly-sweet echo. He almost breaks the ceramic cup, teeth clenched and nostrils flaring. It doesn’t go unnoticed, “Sasuke?”</p>
<p>A slow breath and blink then he replies, “The coffee here is delicious. Luckily, because this is the only place that’ll have me.” He waves at the portly woman. She pauses her wiping and waves back, tattoos a bright red on her cherubic cheeks.</p>
<p>His admission pricks a heartstring. It doesn’t surprise her, but it angers her all the same, fueled by…protectiveness. Protectiveness and…love, she thinks, watching golden sunlight hit him in soft patina. God she still loves him. So fiercely and completely she wants to confess it again right here. But she knows intuitively he cannot understand. He will not return her feelings. Something has changed…he’s changed.</p>
<p>She calls his name again. Sasuke snaps to attention, expression suddenly stone. “My cat has run away.” <em>I’m losing control of my chakra.</em></p>
<p>A code. A memory – A secret language the three of them devised to mess with Kakashi-sensei as Genin. It’s based on similar shinobi code, except for some nonsensical phrasing and word usage to throw off any spying ninja – like ANBU. The streets are empty for early afternoon, but Sasuke is the most distrusted man in Konoha. Anyone could be listening.</p>
<p>Sakura nods, understanding, “When?”</p>
<p>“Last night.”</p>
<p>“Do you know where he went?” <em>What were the symptoms?</em></p>
<p>A hairline fracture of an adamantine mask. He averts her eyes, “…she went back to where she was born…by the snake nest.” <em>His summons?</em> No, that’s not it…snakes…Orochimaru…<em>the Curse Seal?</em></p>
<p>Now that throws Sakura off. Hadn’t his curse seal been rendered inactive by Itachi? A thousand questions ricochet off her mind – all too complicated for this roundabout code. She leads with the most important one, “Do you know why?”</p>
<p>Sasuke shakes his head. Worse possible answer, “Probably due to my weird schedule,” <em>Since my last mission. </em>A beat, then he continues, “I’ll look for her after I get some food,” <em>I need to do research, </em>“Pork Ramen.” <em>Forbidden research. </em></p>
<p>Sakura frowns, leaning back in her chair, digesting the information. He obviously didn’t tell Kakashi because of his tenuous standing in the village. One hint of possible curse seal activity would probably render him dead. While his trust in her is heartwarming, the implication is queasy and coffee bitter. She takes a swig anyway, feeling its invigorating warmth, like someone shooting fireworks through her veins. She almost jumps out of her skin, eyes wide, catching a curse between her teeth.</p>
<p>
  <em>Holy shit. </em>
</p>
<p>She’ll definitely be awake for a while.</p>
<p>She meets Sasuke’s eyes with a new fire, determined, “I’ll do anything I can to help.”</p>
<p>A fraction of a smile makes Sakura fall all over again. He reaches for her hand and gives it a small squeeze, “Thank you.” Tenderness.</p>
<p>A distant explosion shatters their moment.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Unconditional Surrender</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Apologize for the delay. Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Outside, Naruto knows he’s burning</p><p>His skin chafes against over-starched sheets as fever spreads, oily corruption seeping into his veins like hot sludge. He can taste the coppery poison. He tries desperately to push it back with his own chakra – Kurama’s chakra – but it alludes him. He cannot feel Kurama at all. He should be more alarmed…but…</p><p>His eyes slip open.</p><p>Lush, green grasses blanket this world, multicolor wildflowers thrusting toward the sapphire sky. Tall trees encircle the enclosure. He dips his head by degrees, looking into the clear water, white spangles shimmering across gentle waves. Not a single breath could be heard nor a twitter or flutter. Complete silence. <em>Peace.</em></p><p>
  <em>‘In Konoha? That’ll be the day’</em>
</p><p> A breeze laps his bare chest, carrying a resonant voice – two resonant voices – speaking in sync. Male and female. Sasuke and…</p><p>“Shiori,” he says to the pond.</p><p>Her name is an incantation and like an apparition, she appears besides him. She stares blankly into the natural mirror, piercing steel eyes washing blue-grey. Her full lips smile – a soft, girlish thing. Completely at odds with his last memory of her: wailing, irate, and cursing his name. She fixes her white bandana so the red character is clearly emblazoned across her forehead. <em>Peace.</em></p><p>He knows that she’s is the reason for his sickness. And yet…The woman looks at him, across the meadow, and back at the water. She sinks to a crouch, still smiling,</p><p>“This is where I met him. Sora.”</p><p>He tilts his head in query, brows furrowing. The name rings no bells. She doesn’t the elaborate until a fish breaks the surface, scales a glimmering rainbow, “He died a long time ago. I loved him.”</p><p>He catches her glistened stare, “I’m sorry.”</p><p>“He died because the war. <em>Your </em>war. One of those zombie <em>things…” </em>Her fists and teeth clench, a growl tightening her throat. She exhales a sizzling, shuddering breath, “We didn’t even participate.”</p><p>Naruto thinks of Neji, “We all lost someone.”</p><p>She doesn’t reply, though he can sense she aches to say something. She smooths her black skirt, watching the fish play in spinning circles. “Your Uchiha reminds me of him.”</p><p>Naruto blushes from neck to scalp, crossing his arms and huffing. He stutters for a moment before responding lamely, “He’s not…mine…” It takes a lot of effort not to cringe.</p><p>“He is yours. Always has been – always will be,” she grips his shoulders junction’s like a comrade, “Trust me. I know a lot about these things, Naruto.”</p><p>Her fingers bite needles into his skin. Oh, god his <em>skin. </em>Fire crawls up to his neck, flamed by his churning gut, poisonous eddies rocked by revulsion. He spins up and away, cerulean blue orbs blazing, “Get out of my head!”</p><p>“But he’s slipping away again, Naruto-san! He’s slipping…” She clutches her chest – at that imitation of a heart, “I can feel it. Your bond…it’s breaking.”</p><p>“Gahh!!!” He throws a punch. It glides right through her and he tumbles onto his belly, tasting mulch. She reappears in front of him, flickering in and out of existence.</p><p>Her voice rolls over the hills, enveloping him in mellifluous tones, “But I can help you.”</p><p>His fists pull grass and dirt, glaring, “Where is Kurama?”</p><p>“Your fox is safe. Just let me help.” She offers her hand. Comrade to comrade.</p><p>White-hot flame bursts in his vision, scalding his brain. Naruto cries out desperately as he’s assaulted by images – some his own, others not – fusing together in a gelatinous blob. He feels brain matter leak out of his ears. His throat fills with acid as he curls into a fetal position.</p><p>
  <em>He’s dying…He’s dying…</em>
</p><p>“No, no. <em>He</em> is, sweetheart,” She crouches, caressing his blond locks and cooing, “Let me help... Let me help you help him.”</p><p>“No…”</p><p>“Give in, Naruto…” Her lips graze his brow, “Let me in.”</p><p><em>God, he’s melting. </em>Shivers rock his body to seizure, eyes rolling, and lids fluttering shut. He mouths one word and thinks another.</p><p>Luckily for him, she hears them both.</p>
<hr/><p>When he wakes, it’s slow.</p><p>Fluorescent light stipples mottled darkness, the peaceful clearing weaving into the sterile green of his hospital room. His hands graze the stiff sheets. He watches the puckering cream skin, tracking his gaze up to his elbow. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the false limb. It reminds him too much of the war and its sacrifices. Death, destruction. People lost and never to be found. His heart monitor beeps steadily, a reminder that he is alive. That this is real. That it was all a dream.</p><p>
  <em>Was it, Naruto-kun?</em>
</p><p>He shoots up. Bad mistake.</p><p>Pain bursts from core to periphery, nerves aflame, painting the edges of the universe in scarlet. He chokes on a yell. It feels like someone beat him unconscious, stepped on him, and kicked his balls up his throat for good measure. He slumps back into bed, exhausted, needing rest…needing…</p><p>“Water,” he calls hoarsely.</p><p>Movement in the corner of the room. A body stirs from her slumber, raising her head up and blinking sleep from her moonstone eyes. Tsuki scrambles to her feet, a little embarrassed that she’s been caught dozing, blush blooming across her cheeks. It reminds him of another Hyuga. Guilt twists in his stomach.</p><p>
  <em>Not now. </em>
</p><p>She brings a cup to his lips. He drinks greedily, cool water chasing heat from his veins. He sighs gratefully, craning his neck to peer out the window, “How long was I out?”</p><p>“Not long – just under three hours,” Tsuki said. She fiddles with some wires and an IV bag, “You spiked a high fever while you were asleep and your chakra went crazy.”</p><p>His stomach lurches, “My chakra?”</p><p>“Yes. We couldn’t find the source. It just dissipated,” She presses two buttons and writes something down on a chart, “I’ve updated Kakashi-sensei. We should find out his response later.”</p><p>Eyes downcast and lips pressed to a grim line, he clenches the sheets. It wasn’t a dream. An illusion? Unlikely. Naruto is bad with genjutsu, but he knows it needs a caster and she’s dead. She should be dead. <em>I saw her die.</em></p><p>‘<em>I’m dead. That doesn’t mean I can’t help you.’</em></p><p>“With?” He murmurs, inaudible above the heart monitor.</p><p>‘<em>You know what.’</em></p><p>Of course, he knows. It’s burrowed with his deepest fears, iron-clad and guarded in his chest, hiding battered pieces. Kirigakure exposed his fissures and like a skilled excavator, Shiori unearthed his bits and said <em>you’re not broken </em>and <em>I can fix this. </em>It’s raw and uncomfortable. It makes his arms itchy and his stomach fizzy.</p><p><em>You’re not broken’  </em>She purrs, <em>‘Just incomplete’</em></p><p>
  <em>‘I’ll make sure he stays.’</em>
</p><p>A slick slurry twisting up his spine, twisting around his limbs. Grime and gurgle, a beast unleashed, except it’s not the Kyuubi. There’s no anger. No fear. Just an ache so deep it rattles his bones.</p><p>“Stay.” He croaks, in sync with Shiori. She chuckles, fading out of his head, leaving just the sound of fluorescent bulbs.</p><p>Tsuki pauses in the threshold, fixes Naruto with a concerned look, and returns to the chair.</p>
<hr/><p>Lightning spears Sasuke’s skull, fissions down his spine, up his severed arm. He collapses on the next gabled roof, lungs blown as he struggles around another breath of air. He grips his Rinnegan eye. It throbs from flicker-fast images, tomoe spinning nauseous circles. He claws the tile, trying to get a grip on his chakra but failing, slipping prickly through his fingers like glassy sand.</p><p>“Sasuke!” Sakura cries.</p><p>A cool hand lays upon his head, green curative chakra diming agony to ache, eyes slipping closed. His mind slows its replay. The memories blur, an effervescing kaleidoscope of color. Are they memories? Sasuke frowns. He can’t discern exactly what his mind is showing him. Like looking into a deformed face, it unnerves him.</p><p>He looks at Sakura, sees the worry deep in her green orbs, “Sasuke? What happened? Is it your chakra?”</p><p>He tries to shake his head but flinches, neck sore and throat dry. He tastes copper on his tongue. Blood? No injuries. He examines his body and freezes at the sight of purple patches curling up his wrist. Curse seal? He nearly jumps from shock.</p><p>Sakura looks down, pressing and rolling his forearm, trying to calm him, “Sasuke, what are you looking at? I don’t see anything.”</p><p>That breaks Sasuke’s stupor, “What?”</p><p>Another explosion and yell. Pale-grey smoke stains the sky unpolished steel.</p><p>"Shit.” Sasuke bites. He bounds off toward the source, ignoring the pain simmering just beneath the surface. His chakra’s force cracks tile. Sakura just barely keeps up.</p><p>The two perch above the scene, just in time to see the two intruders with their hands up, shinobi weapons fanning around them. Their ninja headbands shock Sasuke cold: white with scarlet lettering.</p><p>
  <em>Peace.</em>
</p><p>The male ninja speaks, gravelly and deep, “We, Enmei and Kotoko, surrender ourselves to the Rokudaime Hokage.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Note: This Sora bears no relation to the Sora mentioned in the filler</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Forbidden</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Kakashi rubs his thumb between his brow, trying and failing to stave off his burgeoning headache. A muffled sigh escapes his lips, diffusing heat across his masked face. His tired black eyes dart from the significantly shorter stack of paperwork to the unmarked file. He ignores them both, instead reaching for the steaming ceramic cup. The promise of sweet and bitter tea calms the unease churning his guts. However, the irritation worrying behind his brain wins out and he ends up reopening the file, rereading the same words.</p>
<p>
  <em>Naruto Uzumaki: fever, sleeplessness, chakra corruption. Diagnosis: Unknown</em>
</p>
<p>Unknown. The thrust of all discovery. A needle pricking a nerve, incessant and annoying. His mind struggles around an explanation. Chakra corruption? Wouldn’t the medically induced coma help? Why didn’t he improve? He closes his eyes against the throbbing in his skull. Some answers stand out, accenting by a continuous thought, distant and low.</p>
<p>
  <em>‘I’m way too old for this’</em>
</p>
<p>Maybe Tsunade’s jutsu has a point other than vanity.</p>
<p>His age is a worn jacket. Tight across the chest and shoulders, it stiffens joints and constricts bone. Kakashi rolls his neck. He interlaces his fingers and pulls his arms over his head, wincing at the ache. When he retires, he decides, he’ll take a vacation somewhere far away. Warm. Near water. Of course, unless he can find the cure for his successor, he’ll die in this chair. He leans back and glances outside, seeking inspiration in that cloudless blue sky. He finds nothing except birdsong. High and sweet, it drifts through the popped-open window, dampening the sound of multiple approaching footsteps.</p>
<p>A knock at the door. Kakashi exhales through his nose, swiveling around, “Enter.”</p>
<p>Four ANBU shinobi – Wolf, Frog, Lizard, Horse – walk in phalanx, hands behind their backs, dressed identically sans their distinct masks. An elite team focused on relations with Kirigakure, and thus very rarely all in Konoha at the same time, their appearance is a surprise. Kakashi blinks once. Twice. Then, he offers a cock of a brow. The four of them glance at each other before Wolf steps forward, blond strands falling from his high ponytail as he bows.</p>
<p>“Hokage-sama,” Wolf says, “We’ve apprehended the remainder of the Kirigakure terror cell.”</p>
<p>His eyes narrow to slivers, “Are you sure?”</p>
<p>“They surrendered just moments ago. They’re currently in questioning.”</p>
<p>“Doesn’t mean there weren’t offshoots,” Kakashi replies, leaning forward, “The Mizukage mentioned their strength in numbers as reason to fear their disruption of the first Shinobi Union convention.”</p>
<p>“Yes, but we have intel to disprove that assertion,” Frog interjects. Petite and feminine, her voice croaks like her unfortunate namesake, “We believe that Shiori failed to fully spread her ideology, resulting in her unprecedented last stand.”</p>
<p>“The fight with Naruto and Sasuke.” Kakashi finishes, peering down at the file.</p>
<p>“Correct.” Wolf says, “We would like to talk to them about their side-op. We believe they may have some intel to close out our case.”</p>
<p>“Naruto’s hospitalized right now and Sasuke’s…” He realizes he hasn’t talked to the Uchiha since the debrief. He didn’t even receive an extensive report on his hospital visit. Does that mean he’s not experiencing the same symptoms? Kakashi furrows his brow.</p>
<p>“Hokage-sama?” The raspy, wobbly voice kicks him out of his head. Lizard’s arm is raised, “Did you say Naruto is in the hospital?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” He brushes his knuckles underneath his jaw, frowning as the shinobi tense, “Why?”</p>
<p>“Sir,” Horse answers after a long minute. His black ink tattoos pulse, snaking up his wiry arms and coiling around his neck. A seal specialist, Kakashi remembers, stomach pulling taunt. “It’s imperative that you let me examine Naruto as soon as possible.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Sasuke follows Sakura back to the hospital, frowning the whole way there. He’s stuck in the past, scrutinizing people-shaped holes, trying to reconcile them with today’s events. His Sharingan spins as he recites mission intel from memory.</p>
<p>Komainu – Shiori’s name for the group. Identifiable only by their white bandanas etched with the word for peace. Known for their hatred for ninja and the ninja world because of the war and destruction they’ve brought. Ironic considering their extensive usage of chakra. Idealists, Sasuke mentally snarls, completely insulated from any real decisions. Any real death. He exhales, churning through the characters of her motley crew.</p>
<p>Kouta, master taijutsu artist. Insignificant – dead. Natsu: seals and summons. Extremely annoying to fight but ultimately went down. Shiori <em>should </em>be dead, strange jutsu non withstanding. He remembers her body’s warmth when his <em>Chidori </em>speared her chest. The black scarlet of her blood. Her dull, vacant look as she crossed over to world much worse than the one she’d scorned. Yes, he remembers like he remembers every other death. Uchihas never forget.</p>
<p>Except, evidently, Enmei and Kotoko.</p>
<p>He can place Enmei and Kotoko in the scene but can’t recall their techniques. Maybe Naruto fought them. They were separated during the battle before they chased down and killed Shiori. It would fit – explains why Sasuke couldn’t fill in the blanks. They were supposed to be dead. The side-op had called for annihilation. Naruto must’ve failed. Must have been deceived.</p>
<p>He never could kill.</p>
<p><em>‘Idiot’ </em>He thinks, not quite angry. It’s too complicated to just be anger. Too soft.</p>
<p>Too tender, like skin on skin.</p>
<p>Sasuke derails that dangerous train of thought by shaking his head. His eyes graze over his pale arm and stump, searching for the tell-tale black markings. Sakura assured him that his curse seal was non-existent. Was it ever there? What was it then – genjutsu his Sharingan can’t read? A hallucination? He isn’t sure which is better. He clenches his fists underneath his cloak.</p>
<p>Whatever it is, Enmei and Kotoko will know.</p>
<p>He has to find a way into Interrogation.</p>
<p>They pass the threshold into Naruto’s room, coming face-to-face with Kakashi-sensei and an ANBU guard. The Hokage has shucked his formal robes for standard shinobi wear. Hands slotted into his pockets, Kakashi’s eyes crinkle in an unseen smile, “Sakura! Sasuke! We were just asking about you.”</p>
<p>“Kakashi-sensei?” Sakura asks, stopping her tracks and tilting her head, “What are you doing here?”</p>
<p>“Hmm? Can’t I just visit my adorable former students?”</p>
<p>Sakura scowls and crosses her arms. Naruto replies, husky and brittle, before she can open her mouth, “He’s here to ask us about the mission.”</p>
<p>Sasuke’s gaze cuts across to Naruto, meeting fiery cerulean-blue eyes, heat surging up his spine so quickly it punches a hushed breath of out his lungs. He squares his shoulders against the uncomfortable effervescence of his chakra. His nerves hum, tingling to his fingertips. He flexes his fists. The brief rest has chased some shadows from Naruto’s face, revealing a barely controlled…something. Anger roiling under another emotion – one equally as hot.</p>
<p>Sasuke frowns, electricity crackling between their steady stare.</p>
<p>Kakashi clears his throat and Sasuke cuts the connection. Immediately, the feeling calms to a steady burn, settling in deep within his core. A bitter aftertaste stings his throat. He shakes his head out of the trance. Well…that was new.</p>
<p>Kakashi looks between them. Naruto doesn’t meet his eyes, occupied with a thread poking from the green blanket. He sighs and motions his ANBU guard to speak. “Horse?” Kakashi calls.</p>
<p>He’s all sinew and ripcord, black filigree and curlicues crawling up ghostly pale complexion in unidentifiable seals. The indigo-etched mask matches his ponytailed hair, echoing his namesake, “There’s definitely a seal on the both of them.”</p>
<p>“What?” Sakura and Naruto exclaim. Sasuke silently breathes a sigh of relief. So he wasn’t going crazy.</p>
<p>Kakashi shifts to his right leg, casual and easy, as if knowing all along. “Which one?”</p>
<p>“I need a better look.”</p>
<p>“Hey, wait what are you—”</p>
<p>Without much warning, Horse presses a thumb to Naruto’s forehead. The air stills to a pinprick of light glittering underneath his nail. Naruto arches off the bed with a hiss. The gold line travels south, splitting off, carving intricate lattices and spirals across Naruto’s bare chest and arms. It haloes the Kyuubi’s seal, stopping short of crossing it, in imbricated circles. A design worthy of the finest silk, it imbues Naruto with a second skin. Sasuke watches, transfixed, as it pulses, his own heart syncing to its beat.</p>
<p>“Sasuke!” Sakura gasps.</p>
<p>Sasuke glances at his own arms and his eyes widen. Identical golden rivulets trace like capillaries, the scrolled pattern disappearing under his shirt. He shucks off his cloak to get a better look. The asteriated lines meet at his navel, shivering around a mandala. He touches it and immediately flinches at the jolt of pain. A static shock.</p>
<p>The jutsu ends. Horse curses and turns to Kakashi, whose uninterested façade cracks with concern.</p>
<p>Naruto rubs his stomach and whines, “That hurt, ya know!”</p>
<p>“It’s the Intertwining Fates seal,” Horse says, grim.</p>
<p>Kakashi straightens up, brows furrowing, “You sure?”</p>
<p>Horse doesn’t say anything more. The atmosphere thickens by degrees, silence heavy and foreboding like an approaching storm.</p>
<p>Sakura faces it head on, “What is it?”</p>
<p>Kakashi moves to the windows. His fingers pinch open the blinds. He peers out for a moment, taking in that clear blue sky, before shuttering them closed. Horse locks the door, checking underneath for cracks. He pastes a white paper on the door with a seal for quiet.</p>
<p>“Well?” Sakura asks again. Kakashi brings his index finger to his lips.</p>
<p>“Keep your voices down,” He warns sternly. The three of them tense immediately, an old reflex. Kakashi’s seriousness is a rare occurrence, usually preceded by disaster, “Nothing said here leaves this room, got it?”</p>
<p>They nod in tacit agreement. After a beat, Horse launches into an explanation, “The Intertwining Fates seal is an old Fūinjutsu, as old as the concept of shinobi themselves. It binds two shinobi together so they can share chakra.”</p>
<p>“I think I’ve heard of it before,” Sakura says, green eyes flitting furtively between Naruto and Sasuke, “It was used in marriage ceremonies.”</p>
<p>Naruto flails his arms wildly, flustered, “Sasuke and I aren’t like that, ya know!” Sasuke turns away with a scoff, a light pink scoring across his cheeks. Sakura’s eyebrows disappear up her hairline.</p>
<p>Kakashi snorts, a barely disguised chuckle, eyes crinkling, “It was also used for comrades with strong bonds.”</p>
<p>Horse clears his throat, “That’s right. Though as Sakura-san said, it was much more popular as part of marriage ceremonies due to its totality.”</p>
<p>“Totality?” Naruto asks, redness receding from his face.</p>
<p>Horse holds up his hands, “The seal is a constant give-and-take. Your reserves are shared between two of you and are reapportioned, as necessary,” He dips his right arm, “So if one is sick, the other donates chakra accordingly.”</p>
<p>“Isn’t that dangerous? I mean, can’t your chakra reserves overcompensate, leaving you and your partner vulnerable?” Sakura asks.</p>
<p>“Now you see why it’s fallen out of popularity.” Kakashi drawls.</p>
<p>“That and the side effects of the seal,” Horse’s masked face darts between Sasuke and Naruto, “As the bond deepens, the users are privy to each other’s thoughts and emotions. Which can be useful in a love affair as well as potentially toxic.”</p>
<p>“Crimes of passion,” Kakashi explains as his students share a confused look, “Another reason for its disuse.”</p>
<p>“That doesn’t explain why Shiori hit us with that seal specifically.” Sasuke meeting, frowning, meeting his mismatched gaze with Kakashi’s bored one.</p>
<p>Kakashi tilts his head, blinking, “Why not? It’s obvious you and Naruto have a strong bond worth exploiting.”</p>
<p>The banality of his words hit Sasuke square in the sternum, in that tender muscle buried deep in his chest. He knows that Kakashi cannot – should not— know the implication of those words. It does nothing to assuage the exposure he feels. Bare, raw, and way too poetic for shinobi his caliber. He knew as a Genin their bond would be the death of him. He knew it at the Valley of the End. He knew it that fated night outside of Kirigakure. And he knows it now, in the ruins of this undefined and complicated knot. This tie that he always had to cut but never could. It was his downfall then and will be his downfall now.</p>
<p><em>‘And what a way to go’ </em>That feminine voice muses. Sasuke scowls, tasting bitter irony.</p>
<p>“Does this seal…make you hear voices?” Was Sasuke and Naruto simultaneous question. They flinch, look at each other and then away.</p>
<p>Horse scratches his chin, “I don’t think so, but anything is possible.”</p>
<p>Sakura casts a worried glance between her teammates in the silence that follows.</p>
<p>“Can you fix us?” Sasuke grits out finally between clenched teeth.</p>
<p>Horse doesn’t reply and that’s all the confirmation Sasuke needs.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Seven Days</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Life really just keeps catching up with me! Please enjoy.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Ibiki flexes his fingers, jaw twitching subtly. Damn arthritis.</p><p class="p1">Coffee probably isn’t helping. He eyes the rich swirling liquid, weighing his options, ultimately choosing the caffeine. He swigs a little, savors its heat, then downs the rest with a hiss. He crushes the paper cup and tosses it toward the garbage can. It misses.</p><p class="p1">His brow wrinkles. He sighs heavily. Seven fucking days.</p><p class="p1">Ibiki’s been in interrogations longer than this. Hours, days. Nothing beats that Jōnin from the Sound. Nineteen straight days of torture and he hadn’t budged. Despite the lacerations, the hallucinations, the slight machinations of refined and extended interrogations, the man had remained silent. It was only on the twentieth day and on his last finger had he given them something…and nothing. Ibiki had executed him in anger, though more for wasting his time than bad intel. No one wastes his time.</p><p class="p1">It rattles like the shrapnel wedged behind his ribs, a ticking bomb.</p><p class="p1">Ibiki licks his teeth, coffee and cigarettes lining his tongue. Gotta get this shit moving.</p><p class="p1">Ibiki pushes off the desk and peers over at the two Yamanaka clansmen. They are deep within the ANBU subbasements, in the interrogation corridor reserved only for most dangerous and classified of nuke-nin. Intricate black seals to suppress enemy chakra mark the ceiling, barely visible in the flickering sodium-yellow lights. The floor and walls flake with disease, the distinct scent of ammonia and mold singeing his nostrils. The air is thick and soupy. Everything here has a psychological purpose, aiming to break down ninja till their nothing but bone and guts and pain.</p><p class="p1">Pain, he thinks, is his bread and butter. His motivator. His symphony.</p><p class="p1">And yet, their victims haven’t budged.</p><p class="p1">Fatigue carves deep lines along his fellow shinobi’s faces. He frowns. He’d been assured that these two were the top crop of the Yamanaka clan. There’s always a few in ANBU, but peacetime meant budget cuts and prioritization of only the best. A fine policy – if they aren’t weak. Unfortunately, they look ready to pass-out after only seven days. Amateurs.</p><p class="p1">They’re too green in the face. Too young. They need to see death…real death. Not just war.</p><p class="p1">Too bad it’s peacetime.</p><p class="p1">After another moment, he speaks, “Ino.”</p><p class="p1">The kunoichi looks up from her nails, straightening up immediately once she notices his glare. She’s easily the more talented of the two—the more intelligent. She lacks the drive or the stomach for this line of work. She’s just some kid playing dress-up in her father’s old trench coat. This’ll be her last case –he sees it in her eyes. “Ibiki-senpai?”</p><p class="p1">“Do another sweep on Enmei’s mind. Make a right instead of a left.”</p><p class="p1">Kaoru perks up, teal-blue orbs narrowed to slits, “Ibiki-san, we’ve already swept their brains three times each.”</p><p class="p1">His glare turns molten, Kaoru wilting underneath his heat. The boy is younger and haughtier than his main branch cousin without the skill to show for it. However, he’s easier to control, even with his arrogance. Ibiki watches his swooshy brown ponytail, nose scrunching to a restrained snarl. Yamanakas are the worst, Inoichi non-withstanding.</p><p class="p1">Ibiki clears his throat, motioning Ino to the forefront with his index finger. The woman’s expression is stony as a statue, fissures barely visible except to a seasoned veteran like Ibiki. Damn. The girl’s got talent. But again, no heart.</p><p class="p1">Well, neither did Ibiki.</p><p class="p1">Enmei wiggles in the metal contraption– a machine for stabilizing the mind for interrogation. His right eye is swollen shut, bruising deep purple and blue on his dark skin. His bright orange eye tracks her movements. A slow smirk twists his cracked lips, “You like what you see, Princess?”</p><p class="p1">Ino snorts, voice lowering to a mocking seduction, “I’ve seen better.”</p><p class="p1">Before he can make his retort, she crabs her fingers into his shaggy black locks, diffusing her chakra through his skull. She starts slow, careful to not expend too much too quickly. It doesn’t help that she hasn’t had a real night’s rest in a week and is running on empty. The redundancy of the task makes it less difficult. She exhales a steady breath as she verbalizes her questions in her mind. It’s the first step to navigating this labyrinth.</p><p class="p1">Enmei’s is more advanced.</p><p class="p1">Most minds by now would’ve wavered—leaky memories, fracturing maze walls. Enmei’s labyrinth remains fortified, unwilling to give. She struggles forward, tar sticking underneath her soles. She can feel her tenuous grip slipping and sliding within his mind space. She latches on stronger to her questions, throwing them against the oil-slick barriers, trying to get one to stick. Trying to coax his mind out of its maze.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>C’mon…C’mon…</em>
</p><p class="p1">Her nails dig deeper. Blood bites like acid.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Blood?</em>
</p><p class="p1">So much of it. The ruby rivers surge, dragging her down into the scarlet pool. She chokes on invisible waters. Bile scorches her throat, singes her eyes. Her eyes. She blinks and comes face-to-face with her father’s corpse, bluish veins curling up his sallow skin. Drifting aimlessly, suspended in unknown stillness.</p><p class="p1">They didn’t find all the bodies. Tsunade’s and her voice meld as one, reciting that memory. Building that nightmare.</p><p class="p1">She reaches for him and he crumbles like a fragile sand sculpture.</p><p class="p1">Ino’s silent scream kicks her out of his mind and back into her body, its force toppling her off her feet. Kaoru catches her before she falls, “Ino!”</p><p class="p1">Her lids flicker as the image replays over and over, head lolling to the side.</p><p class="p1">Ibiki’s gloved hand presses her forehead, “Release!”</p><p class="p1">The twitching stops and Ino comes into herself in breaths, teal orbs lined with tears. She gasps, shooting up, dazed, “Wha—What? Did—” Her eyes rest upon Enmei, pearly white teeth bright against his shrouded expression. A chuckle rattles his constricted body.</p><p class="p1">Ibiki smacks him and his head hits the edge of the machine. He laughs louder.</p><p class="p1">Ino watches, afraid and suspicious, palm flat on her forehead. <em>How did he access that recurring nightmare? </em>That image only haunts her dreams, far away from the consciousness she maintained as a Yamanaka kunoichi. There are few possibilities, each more terrifying than the last, unable to be verbalized. Kaoru’s expression mirrors her own.</p><p class="p1">It takes a chakra-powered smack from Ibiki to render Enmei unconscious. Quiet unease settles like dust, stifling and hot. Ino sucks in her cheeks and blows out a tenuous breath, bangs shivering in the makeshift wind. Kaoru pushes off his crouch and offers Ino a hand. She ignores it, preferring to stand on her own and immediately regretting it as a jolt of pain stabs behind her eyes. Stars burst in her vision.</p><p class="p1">Kaoru saves her from a near fall, “Easy.”</p><p class="p1">Ibiki cocks a brow, “Need to take a break?”</p><p class="p1">She shakes her head and winces, “No just…” A breath between pauses, “A minute or two.”</p><p class="p1">Ibiki is unconvinced, eyes narrowing at the furtive glance the Yamanaka share. He clicks his tongue, clacks his teeth, and decides, “Both of you: take an hour. You obviously need time to get your story straight about what the fuck we’re dealing with.”</p><p class="p1">“R-right!” They agree and turn to leave. He stops them with a raised palm.</p><p class="p1">“Before you go,” His grin widens dangerously. Maniacally, “Bring me the girl.”</p>
<hr/><p class="p1">Seven days.</p><p class="p1">The library is a gaping maw hollowed by time and nature. An ANBU hideout nestled into a cave, it holds the vast archive of forgotten jutsu, both native and foreign. Most of it happens to be Fūinjutsu. Unfortunate it’s so overlooked, Horse muses. Fuuinjutsu is so fascinating because of its implications beyond the shinobi world. It’s difficult and complicated to understand initially but within the ink scrawl lies the secrets of the universe and the boundaries of time. A smile tugs at his lips, half-delirious.</p><p class="p1">Of the seven days he's been here, he’s only slept for two nights.</p><p class="p1">He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes, exhaling loudly. His mask lies forgotten on the grit floor, scratched like his face. He grazes his bisecting scars, skins his clan’s purple markings, and perches his chin on his fists. He peers down at the sprawling paper. Notes – and illegible ones at that. He frowns. Maybe Frog could make sense of them. She could make sense of anything.</p><p class="p1">His gaze slides to the diagram. An interpretation of the seals on Naruto and Sasuke’s body, represented by gold tracery on black human outlines. He’s even doodled their hairstyles and expressions. The Uchiha’s frown matches his own. Seven days and not a single breakthrough. His head bursts with theory and proofs. Horse stares at the two images for another bleary second, then he begins to sketch his own ideas, defeated.</p><p class="p1">That idle scrawl branches off to a new jutsu, circling back to the original seal, inspiration just on the cusp. And as the answer reveals itself, a lodge of lead drops straight into his stomach.</p>
<hr/><p class="p1">On the seventh day, Naruto doesn’t rest.</p><p class="p1">He watches Konoha come alive in shades. Bruising indigo, scarlet, then a cool orange patina, before disappearing behind the thick brush of clouds. He’s braced back on his forearms on his building’s roof, a cool breeze gliding over his heated skin, chasing worried thoughts. He hasn’t heard Shiori or Kurama in days. He’s not sure which is more alarming.</p><p class="p1"><em>‘Just a side effect of the seal’ </em>Horse’s assurance repeats, soothing absolutely none of his worries.</p><p class="p1">“Right!” He exclaims with fake enthusiasm, patting his thighs and springing to his feet. He needs a distraction. He pumps his fist, “Got a lot of shit to do today!”</p><p class="p1">Cleaning his apartment, visiting Iruka-sensei, studying with Shikamaru are all on the docket. He spent most of the week sitting in his room or meandering around Konoha helping folks as they need it, so he’s excited about a change. While the seal allows for taijutsu training, he finds he has no one to spar. The one person who is free is the one person he can’t. He and Sasuke have to avoid each other. Too much time will deepen the seal, making the extraction riskier. Not like it hasn’t been done before. They’ve perfected the art of avoidance, their lives so far defined by when and where they’ve chased each other.</p><p class="p1">Naruto’s smile is acerbic, softening the longer he looks in the mirror. He imagines Sasuke looking back at him.</p><p class="p1">He shakes his head and curses.</p><p class="p1">He feels the seal’s contamination of his chakra, the tingling sensation just below the surface. A rash unable to be scratched – only to fester. Growing hot, burning, scorching like the fever back at the hospital. His body aches in this negative space – in this Sasuke-filled hole. It takes effort not to seek him out, a control completely foreign to Naruto. He’s a fighter. A go-getter. After all, he was the one to initiate that faithful night.</p><p class="p1">Naruto rolls his shoulders, trying to ignore the heat coiling in his gut. His thoughts of Sasuke always stray here. It’s the seal or their unresolved sexual tension. Or both. He sighs. Shoving his feelings down never works for him. He feels too much too often. Doesn’t hurt that he’s a healthy young adult with healthy sexuality. He deals with it as he deals with everything else: cold shower, hot bath, or masturbation.</p><p class="p1">He picks one of the three and heads out with a clear mind.</p><p class="p1">Thunder rumbles inside the deep grey bowels overhead, the smell of rain carried on the light wind. He’s glad he picked a jacket with a hood on it – red-orange patterned with navy spirals. A souvenir from his and Sasuke’s travels. He’d begged the Uchiha to use some of their money.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>‘Wehh, Sasuke, pleeeeeaaassseee’</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>‘No, idiot. We have limited funds as it is.’</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>‘I’ll suck your dick!’</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>‘That’s-wait what? Where the hell did that come from?’</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>‘It’s not like I have money! But I can give you my body!’</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>‘I don’t want anything from you, especially not that.’</em>
</p><p class="p1">It’d ended there. A couple of days later, right before they left the small merchant village, Sasuke had tossed the jacket unceremoniously over his head. Naruto grins at the memory. That small act of kindness, even after all they’ve been through, proves their bond transcends the universe’s knee-deep bullshit. He has physical proof its extent, etched in gold underneath his skin.</p><p class="p1">They’ll be fine. Naruto whistles his hope through his lips, taking a detour to Shikamaru’s place through a side street. He’s near a really good ice cream shop when he realizes he skipped breakfast. Ice cream for breakfast? Why not? He hums, swinging his arms.</p><p class="p1">He stops dead in his tracks, breath caught and swollen in his chest.</p><p class="p1">Cerulean and moonstone eyes blink simultaneously.</p><p class="p1">“Hinata?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Reconciliation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry for the long wait!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Contrary to popular belief, Kakashi hates puzzles.</p><p class="p1">He was always good at the analytical parts of being a shinobi – comes with the prodigy territory –but he never got much joy out of strategizing. He remembers his glazed-over look mistaken for seriousness when Minato-sensei would review mission plans. Only Rin really enjoyed those parts, using her extensive intelligence to connect dots too faded for the likes of Kakashi and Obito. At the time, Obito had tried to cultivate camaraderie from their mutual dislike of talking over doing, but Kakashi had merely sneered his distaste for the Uchiha.</p><p class="p1">A twinge – of regret or grief, he doesn’t know – nudges his sternum. He rubs at the pain, feeling the telltale signs of old memories unfurling like a dying rose, bloody petals scattering across his past. The loss isn’t as acute as it once was — The war had given him closure. Despite the pain, it’s better than the hollow emptiness which had previously howled within him, searching for a pack in the dead and dying. It’s a pain that reminds him to live on for those who can’t– one that will fade with time.</p><p class="p1">Time. It haunts him, the dirtied clock-face staring him down from its perch above the door.</p><p class="p2">Kakashi’s a man of literature, of the written word. The shinobi rule book was one of his few books a young teen. It’s why he’d latched so strongly to it, besides being a shithead kid with an impossibly long stick up his ass. He thinks briefly of Sasuke and wonders how Minato-sensei went so long without killing him. Kakashi looks forlornly at his orange book, the last of Jiraiya’s writings, dog-eared on his favorite chapter. With a resigned sigh, he opens up the file which has stumped him all day.</p><p class="p1">A glassy, stern stare of a woman hardened greets him. Her auburn tresses frame her triangular face, her full lips set in a firm line. Her forehead is bare, but her village affiliation is filled out in neat, professional handwriting. <em>Kirigakure.</em> Kakashi scans over the file once more, committing the information to memory, attempting to form a complete picture from sparse details. At least they’d found out her clan name. Yoshizawa. It slipped out during Enmei’s interrogation. Unfortunate that it wasn’t something more useful about the seal. Hopefully, the Mizukage would have a record on her clan. The political turmoil of Kirigakure at the time makes that unlikely.</p><p class="p1">He flips a page, reading the data on her companions. Enmei’s and Kotoko’s files have nothing else except their mugshots and village affiliation, Kumogakure and Kirigakure respectively. The interrogation isn’t going well according to Ibiki. Their minds are impenetrable by some seal or other jutsu. Kekkei Genkai? He frowns, his eyes locking on a footnote.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Komainu: Anti-war, anti-shinobi. </em>
</p><p class="p1">The group’s ideals don’t surprise him. They were common amongst non-shinobi, especially after the Third Great War. Hell, Kakashi had once agreed with them. The violence wrought by shinobi led to the death of so many innocents as well as fellow comrades. His own father had perished under shinobi culture. Ironic, then, how many of these groups fall victim to the same culture they sought to eliminate. Extortion, murder, the terror of civilians – all things these radicals accused shinobi of doing. What does catch his eye is their lack of a criminal record. Their activities range from the innocuous to beneficial – simple C or D class missions like clean-ups or eliminations of pests. Yet, the Mizukage had been adamant about the need for total annihilation. Seeking to preserve the fragile nature of the Shinobi Union, Kakashi had agreed.</p><p class="p1">He wonders now if he has made the right decision.</p><p class="p1">He presses his palms flat against his knees, eyes darting to the missing photos of Natsu and Kouta, and pushes to his feet. He removes the Hokage hat and sets it down on the scattered papers. Thousands of liquid globes wash the windows, the storm’s gentle aftermath dripping on the sill. A droplet splits from the others, tracking down his reflection, slashing his cheek like a tear. He frowns and sighs.</p><p class="p1">He feels Sasuke before he sees him.</p><p class="p1">He’d memorized his pupils’ chakra signatures long ago. Naruto’s is sunny and blazing, burning with the Will of Fire and fanned by oil-slick accents of Kyuubi corruption. Sakura’s sits relaxed and sweet like the blossoms of her namesake. Sasuke’s is the unholy matrimony of Obito and himself, he thinks wryly. Glacial and sizzling frostbite.</p><p class="p1">And right now, it’s aching to burn.</p><p class="p1">He enters without a knock and speaks without pleasantries, “I need to leave.”</p><p class="p1">Kakashi doesn’t turn from the window, instead cocking his head, “The seal still binds you and Naruto.”</p><p class="p1">“I know,” His voice tightens, “But it’s obvious that your elite shinobi can tell a seal from a salt-shaker, so I’m going to someone who can.”</p><p class="p1">Kakashi blinks, prompting Sasuke to elaborate, “Karin.”</p><p class="p1">Ah, the Uzumaki,“If you must know, we did send her a hawk, but she hasn’t replied.”</p><p class="p1">Sasuke snorts, “She doesn’t care for Konoha.”</p><p class="p1">His brow raises, “She cares for you.”</p><p class="p1">“She won’t listen to you, but she will to me.”</p><p class="p2">It’s the edge in his voice that leaves Kakashi cold. The confidence, the manipulative lilt of tone. It’s those abilities that had struck fear into Konoha and doomed the Uchiha. Like their dojutsu, it convinced any to walk their darkened trail no matter the consequences. Kakashi knows Sasuke commands no power and those who once followed him now laugh, but it still unsettles him. He turns, unseen frown sharpening his gaze. The Uchiha wears a plain black tee and gray sweats as if he’s just awoken. His bandaged stump peeks under the sleeve. His fist clenches in controlled frustration at odds with his exhaustion. He barely has any chakra. The Kyuubi’s probably feeding off of him.</p><p class="p1">Damn. Kakashi feigns exasperation, swallowing worry down his throat, “Sasuke, you know I can’t let you leave.”</p><p class="p1">“What exactly have you been doing to remove this seal?” Is Sasuke’s caustic question.</p><p class="p1">His reply is languid and casual, face betraying a twitch of annoyance, “Horse is actually supposed to give me an update today.”</p><p class="p1">Sasuke is unimpressed, “He gives you updates every day.”</p><p class="p1">His eyes crinkle, “True. But I have a feeling he’ll have something significant to say today, considering he’s coming in person,” He cocks his head, “Would you like to join?”</p><p class="p1">“Why?”</p><p class="p1">“It concerns you, doesn’t it?”</p><p class="p1">“But I’m not…” The words freeze in his throat. Sasuke’s lips press and he looks away, long black hair shielding him from Kakashi’s scrutiny. Kakashi doesn’t need to see him to finish the sentence. The implication sours his stomach, churning up memories of familiar paths traveled.</p><p class="p1">Kakashi seeks levity, “I don’t remember you being the impatient type, Sasuke-kun.”</p><p class="p1">“There’s a lot you don’t remember about me.”</p><p class="p1">Deja-vu tastes disgusting. Kakashi glances outside the window, thinks of a response, and ignores it for something less harsh, “You’re still a Leaf shinobi, Sasuke. Start acting like one.”</p><p class="p1">Sasuke’s scowl deepens to a sneer, “What? Languish around as enemies gain strength? Turning a blind eye to corruption and pretend you’re above it all?” Sasuke croaks a short, acerbic laugh. He opens and closes his good hand, fixing his gaze on the window behind Kakashi, voice barely above a whisper, “I’m not a Leaf shinobi. I never will be.”</p><p class="p1">Kakashi hooks a hand behind his neck and rubs the beginning of an ache. He pinches and rolls trapezius muscles, his age acute in the sore tendons and marrow. He sighs, “Sasuke…”</p><p class="p1">“Despite what happened to my clan, I don’t have hatred for Konoha anymore. The war changed my perspective. I’m looking to the future, not dwelling on the past. That being said,” His eyes meet Kakashi’s, “My future is not with Konoha. It can’t be.”</p><p class="p1">The clocks ticks in the silent, precarious tension, until Kakashi asks a final question, “What is your future, Sasuke?”</p><p class="p1">“I don’t know.”</p><p class="p1">To Sasuke’s surprise, Kakashi smiles a little, “Good answer,” His hands clasp behind his back, “Considering your history Sasuke, I can’t exactly let you free into the Shinobi world,” He thumbs the condensation on the window, “But, I need eyes and ears in distant lands monitoring threats.”</p><p class="p1">Sasuke cocks a brow, “ANBU.”</p><p class="p1">“Close. No one in ANBU has your eyes.”</p><p class="p1">“I accept.”</p><p class="p1">“Of course, you’ll have to update me regularly,” Kakashi crosses his arms, glint playing in his eyes, “And this position is only contingent on my position as Hokage, subject to review by my successor.”</p><p class="p2">Sasuke expression betrays no hesitation, but Kakashi’s been a shinobi long enough to see underneath the underneath. No cracks or splints, just the tiniest tilt. A shift of weight from foot to foot. The Uchiha nods, hand on hip, the slightest smirk on his face, “I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”</p><p class="p1">“Good,” Kakashi says and the conversation ends, Sasuke disappearing like a whisper of wind.</p><hr/><p class="p1">The <em>kissaten </em>is busy for late breakfast. Naruto and Hinata are able to slip in without the usual harassment that accompanies Naruto being a war hero. The pair choose a low, burgundy lacquered booth in the back. The brown cushion molds around his body, comfortable despite the cotton bursting from patchwork holes. The storm outside is drowned out by the pleasant indoor clamor of clacking dishes and clinking glasses. It’s a warmth that leaves Naruto icy and uncomfortable, if only due to the awkward reason of their shared company. He sighs and drums his fingers, impatient at his impending doom.</p><p class="p1">He’s never seen Hinata angry. There’s a first time for everything.</p><p class="p1">Hinata looks around, smiling softly. Her all-seeing eyes take in the <em>kissaten’s </em>décor. Maneki-Neko. A symbol for fortune, the name makes its impression throughout the restaurant, along with other charms of good luck. Deep reds and bright whites adorn every corner like a New Year’s celebration. She picks up a daruma-shaped saltshaker.</p><p class="p1">A giggle escapes her lips, “This was Neji’s favorite spot.”</p><p class="p1">Naruto startles, then snorts, “Seems a little too,” He catches a gleam of a gaudy gold buddha, “Bright for his tastes, ya know?”</p><p class="p1">“Yes, but he was always a little superstitious. Concerned about luck and the like. I think being here made him feel more prosperous.”</p><p class="p1">Naruto grins, “Now that I believe,” His eyes grow a little sad, “Fits in with all that stuff about fate.”</p><p class="p2">The conversation snags on their grief. Like the drizzle outside, it pelts their hearts, agitating old aches. Naruto expects tears and is surprised when Hinata’s gaze is strong, “Naruto…thank you.”</p><p class="p1">Well, that’s unexpected, “Hinata…we both fought in the war.”</p><p class="p1">“No it’s not that,” Her strength falters as memories stir, but she continues, “You helped me and Neji reconcile. If you hadn’t defeated him in the Chūnin exams, he wouldn’t have ever spoken to me. If you hadn’t given me strength, I would’ve never listened,” Her hand covers his, “So thank you.”</p><p class="p1">Naruto doesn’t say anything, a million words clogging his throat. A waitress interrupts them, placing down complimentary pastries and tea. She winks and blows a kiss. Naruto blushes bright red and scratches his neck. He’ll never get used to the blatant female attention. He side-eyes Hinata, unsure if she’ll be jealous. If she’s even capable of jealousy. Surprisingly, she’s smiling. Her blue-black hair is pulled into a high ponytail, tendrils framing her pretty face. She tucks a lock behind her ear and leans down to take a bite of cake.</p><p class="p1">She’s on her second forkful when Naruto speaks, clumsy and garbled, hand gripping the ceramic cup, “Hinata, I’m sorry.”</p><p class="p1">“Hmm?”</p><p class="p1">His eyes squeeze almost shut, “I can’t…We can’t…”</p><p class="p1">She reaches for his hand again. Stronger and sturdier, her grasp warms him from head to toe. Her face remains in that radiant, angelic benevolence too kind for his confession. They stay like that for a second, silence sliced by droplets of rain, until she simply smiles, “I know.”</p><p class="p1">It’s then he realizes her eyes see more than chakra.</p><p class="p1">He nods, feeling luckier than he has in days.</p><hr/><p class="p1">The pair conclude their meal and pleasantries with a promise to visit Neji’s grave together. A hug seals the deal, Hinata’s sugary shampoo wafting in his nose. The sky still drips with residual rain, another storm brewing on the horizon, but it’s the calmest he’s felt since his return.</p><p class="p1">Until he unravels from her arms and meets Sasuke’s fiery mismatched gaze.</p>
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